seconds
by commonmadness
Summary: a glimpse into the lives of Harry and James. drabbles and drabbles and drabbles... you get the idea.
1. unconscious intimidation tactics

This was made because I'm a major drabble fan and I need to put them all somewhere.

Totally unrelated (probably).

_A few moments out of sixth year for Harry and Hermione._

* * *

><p>"You could just go and talk to him."<p>

"Of course I could, but that would throw a slight wrench in my plan, you see. The one where I _don't_ talk to him?"

Harry slapped his transfiguration book down on the library table and sighed heavily. He was tired of listening about Ron from Hermione; he was all she ever talked about these days, though in a very unpleasant manner. With Ron however, it was the exact opposite; he took great lengths to spare himself from mentioning Hermione. If the girl was loathe to hear the boy's name and pretending to ignore him in the corridors, the boy was denying all existance of the girl.

Harry adjusted his glasses and gave the brown-haired girl a calculating look.

"You can't being fighting like this forever, we've all been friends too long."

"Oh _really_, Harry, you can be so _naïve_ sometimes -"

"He's my friend, Hermione," Harry interrupted quietly. "And he's yours too. But I s'pose you've forgotten that?"

Green eyes gazed forcefully and Hermione bit her lip nervously. She would never admit it, proud as she was, but it wasn't when Harry was raging at the pair of them – _her_, she reminded herself, just her – that he intimidated her the most.

It was moments like these, when he was sitting calmly in his chair, staring intently and steadily at her without breaking eye contact. When he was collected and made her feel like an idiot (which nearly no one else could do). It was moments like these when she really, _really_ doubted herself.

But Hermione isn't tough for nothing; years of blood slandering and name-calling have hardened her up, so she shakes the nerves off and recovers quickly. If one didn't know her well, you would have mistaked her flash of fear for a flash of indignation.

Unfortunately for Hermione, Harry knew her well.

"Of course I haven't," she responded, quiet as well, after a short hesitation. "I just... come back to me when he says he's ready to apologize. Then..."

But she never finished her thought. Hermione promptly turned her back on him and speedily left the library.

Harry sighed.


	2. your communication skills are lacking

the masculine inability to talk about _things_ of a fragile nature.

_early seventh year._

* * *

><p>"Hey Padfoot, got a mo?"<p>

Did Sirius Black have a mo? Yes, he did. But James didn't need to know that.

"No, I'm studying with Mooney. Now, actually. _Actually_, five minutes ago, if you want-"

"Are you shitting me or what?"

Scratching his head irritably, Sirius turned to face his friend. James had that look on his face again – the Lily-Look. The Lovey-Look.

_That_ look.

Black repressed the urge to roll his eyes. "If this has something to do with Evans, I _swear_-"

"It doesn't have anything to do with her," James said stiffly. "The assignments for Arithmancy. Left my parchment in the dormitory. Need some of yours."

"Oh." Sirius refused to feel like a ponce. "Yeah. Here."

"Thanks," James said a little coldly.

James _did_ want to talk about Evans. But Sirius didn't need to know that.


	3. excuses excuses

**Breakfast, 1996. **

**I own pies. Lots and lots of pies. **

* * *

><p>Harry stared down the Gryffindor House table, searching the seats for a certain red-haired girl.<p>

Why was he doing this? He asked himself this very question many times and had finally come to the conclusion that since Ron his basically his brother, Ginny qualified as his little sister. Yes, definitely. And big brothers look out for little sisters – or so he had seen with Fred and George in Diagon Alley, along with Ron himself – so he should keep an eye on her sometimes, just to make sure she was all right.

Or, you know. Two eyes.

… And maybe all the time, because honestly, Ron was a rubbish older brother. And also currently setting a bad example with Lavender.

Surreptitiously, he glanced sideways towards his best friend and Brown and winced.

Seriously. There were broom cupboards for that sort of thing.

Harry quickly averted his eyes from the daily game of 'let's-see-how-far-I-can-stick-my-tongue-down-your-throat' (which was a favourite amongst Lavender and Ron), he caught sight of the aforementioned Weasly girl finding herself a seat further down the table. Harry felt his shoulders relax.

… only to have them tense again as Dean slid over next to her.

Harry placed his goblet down harder than he had expected to. The liquid jostled out over the tablecloth.

Ron and Lavender took no notice.

Ginny, however, did.

"Something up, Harry?"

Dean flashed him a smile (_cocky bastard, he knows, he __knows__ – did he just scoot closer to her? Where's his left hand? Holy- it's underneath the table. It's UNDERNEATH THE TABLE. That smarmy son of a-)_, Harry considered saying 'no' and glaring viciously in Dean's general direction, when he looked – and really looked – at Ginny's face.

She was genuinely concerned.

_(… oh.)_

"Nothing," Harry murmured. "Just thinking..."

Ginny smiled uncertainly and Dean then began to distract her with trite conversation.

Harry glowered privately with his kippers. Yeah, he'd keep his eyes on her alright, if she was going to continue this outrageous and tasteless relationship with Dean. Perhaps mention his opinion on the thing...

You know. In a brotherly fashion. Naturally.

Harry chanced a glance back over towards his right and thought aloud if one could become impregnated from too much snogging. Several people sniggered; the couple to whom the comment had been directed appeared not to have heard over the embarrassing sound of plungers plunging.

Harry stabbed an egg brutally with his fork and wondered when his life became so sexually frustrated.


	4. unpleasantness is their foreplay

"James?"

The young man called James turned around in his chair abruptly, startled by the sound of his name and the voice that had said it.

It was Lily Evans.

He blinked. And blinked again.

Had she just used his name...?

"Um... if you're busy I can just -"

"No!" said James a little too loudly, "no, it's fine you just... startled me," he finished lamely.

_I'm such a wanker. _

Evans appeared rather amused, furthering James' mortification. Luckily, he was trained in the art of suppressing flushed skin (one had to be around Lily Evans) and regathered himself.

"What is it?" he asked coldly. The best route to take with Evans was to pretend you didn't care; James had established this towards the end of last year when he had resigned himself that he would never be on speaking terms with her. It was depressing, and he hadn't been happy since, but he had to face reality eventually, and Seventh Year seemed a good enough year as any.

"The counting system," said the Gryffindor Head Girl, "it's your Friday of duty. I figured you could tally the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws."

"Why, scared I'll throw some emeralds out of the Slytherin hour-glass?"

"Precisely."

James grinned. "They'd deserve it," he said jovially against his will, "you heard about Avery and Avalon the other day?"

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Lily's eyes deadened and she stiffened perceptively. James cursed his mouth.

"That was foul, what they did," she said. Her voice was oddly deep. "That was Dark Arts."

"Of course it was," muttered James. "It was Avery. Everyone knows he's on the road to becoming a Death-"

"Stop!"

James looked at Lily in surprise. "Are you defending him?"

"Of course not," snapped Lily. "Of course not. I just don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"I _said_, I don't want to discuss it, Potter," Lily said tersely. "It's really not something I-"

"Rubbish," retorted James. "Ava is one of your best mates, isn't she?"

Evans shot him an annoyed look. "Yes, but that doesn't matter-"

"Then shouldn't you be stomping down to Dumbledore's office, screaming bloody murder, demanding his balls on a platter?"

The corners of Lily's mouth ticked upward, but she said "Dumbledore's already taken care of it."

"You _can't_ be satisfied with two weeks of detention, Evans. That'd be madness."

"Well, it doesn't matter if I am or if I'm not," said Lily assertively. "That's Dumbledore's decision."

"Avery preformed an _eros_ curse on her, Evans," James said softly. "Do you even know what that is?"

Lily looked uncomfortable. "Yes," she said.

"So basically, you're telling me you're alright with that bastard trying to force your best mate to shag him?"

"Of course I'm not _alright_," hissed Lily. "Don't be such a bloody idiot. I _fucking hate_ Avery. He hates me – it's not just because I'm muggleborn -"

"What do you mean?" asked James seriously.

"Never you mind," said Lily roughly. "Now will you take the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw counts?"

James said nothing, but silently nodded his head after a moment of intense staring. Lily stared at him curiously.

"Thanks," she said.


End file.
